The Legend of Zelda: Destiny's Call
by Maloni
Summary: Hyrule has fallen and become a kingdom divided, a tyrant seated upon the throne. The commonwealth is shattered and its subjects are scattered. But, not all is lost. Legends echo through the ages to resonate in the bones of three brought together by destiny's call. Will they summon the strength to retake their country? Or will it fall into the clutches of darkness forever? ON HOLD.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The Gerudo Desert, otherwise known as Din's Garden, was calm that evening.

Like all deserts at night, a frigid breeze drifted across the sharp rises of the dunes, gradually cooling the blistering sand and toying with coarse grains of amber. The bruise-coloured sky was cloudless that night and allowed the full moon and the scattered stars to paint the sand silver, the closest thing the inhospitable waste would ever have to a Hyrulean Winter. To the west and south, the Gerudo Desert abruptly ended in bare stone mountains littered with jagged cliff edges, caves, and sparse patches of greenery. To the north, the monotonous yet dangerously beautiful scenery gently gave way to sandstone plateaus and mesas, the ground turning a deep russet as it slowly transitioned to hard earth mixed with stone and sand. Beyond that, a truly freezing cold wind gusted down from snow-capped mountains at night, the proud peaks trying their best to suffocate the one place where life flourished in Din's Garden.

There, nestled at the base of the Snowpeak Mountains, lay Arbiter's City.

A labyrinthine network of sandstone streets and gritty buildings built hundreds of years ago, the city held no organization in its design. Natural gas from the mountains was funnelled through underground pipes and fed into lanterns to chase away the dark and braziers to guard against the biting cold; in the black of night, Arbiter's City was a shining beacon of warmth on cold's doorstep. Thick walls encircled the sprawling city and armed guards patrolled the battlements, watchful green eyes scouring the land between them and the horizon, warm clothing concealing slender, feminine forms beneath. Some idly fingered triggers in holsters or thumbed hilts protruding from scabbards while others merely walked on.

At the heart of the city lay the Arbiter's Grounds, a crumbling coliseum that was ancient before the city was new; a true silhouette of time. Arbiter's City's most dangerous prisoners were housed there, making it the harshest and most secure prison in the world and the pride of the Gerudo Royalty. That, and the lavishly built Royal Palace. Sitting atop the highest point in the city with its back integrated into the mountain, the Palace was an imposing fortification that had not decayed with time, its thick, high walls, towering turrets, and nigh impenetrable inner keep looking newly built.

Armour clanked rhythmically within the keep, the seven-and-half-foot-tall beast of a man encased inside of it striding with purpose, poise, confidence, a long black cape trailing behind him. Greaves, bracers, and a breastplate fitted to his heavily muscled body of burnished black plate trimmed in gold drank the light surrounding them, gleaming darkly. A great sword nearly the same size as him hung in an intricately detailed scabbard on his hip, a massive gloved hand resting upon the ethereal, glowing hilt; a family heirloom said to be used in the botched execution of one of his ancestors. Moving with royal grace and surprisingly light feet through the complex series of hallways decorated with plush red carpets, hand-woven tapestries, and high windows, the man still radiated a powerful aura that promised pain if crossed.

The lightly armoured giant suddenly slowed his swift gait, coming to a stop in front of a set of large doors. The harsher language of the Gerudo and snippets of Hylian could be heard through the doors, at least twelve different voices.

_All here then. Good._

The man then pressed a palm to each door and simultaneously threw them open with ease, the discussion within the room dying off instantly. He scanned the room quickly and entered, the twelve individuals seated around the massive table in the centre rising to stand at attention with a fist over their hearts and their heads bowed in reverence. The floor-to-ceiling window at the head of the table splashed moonlight into the room and several lanterns were lit around the perimeter, the lighting creating a sombre atmosphere. Though the dim lighting cast thin shadows over each person's face he could name them all, and could spot the small form of the Wind Mage, Vaati, the elegant figure of the Dark Magic Sorceress, Veran, and the hulking mess of intricate interlocking plate armour that was the Dark Dragon, General Onox. Various other Gerudo generals and nobles – all women – were gathered around the table as well, financiers and commanders alike.

The towering leader swept past the assembled councillors and stood at the head of table to face the window and survey his city, the moon silhouetting his figure impressively, perfectly. "Sit." His voice was rolling thunder.

The twelve – excluding General Onox who stood opposite to the other giant – did as they were bid, the Gerudo eager yet afraid to learn why their King had called them here; eager to find out that they were not going to be punished and afraid to find out that they would be.

The King stared out at his city, watching as it stretched out into the distance for kilometres in nearly all directions, the imposing Arbiter's Grounds nearly matching the height of the Royal Palace. Advanced technology and ancient architecture lived in harmony in his city, protecting his people and enforcing his laws while peace reigned and everyone was given an equal chance. Beggars were given a chance to work and if they were found again asking for money they were executed on the spot. No dead weight.

_So unlike Hyrule, that pitiful excuse for a country. Disease and crime, drug, arms, and slave trafficking all run rampant and their rulers leave their people to it. Using technology without a thought for advancements, wallowing in ignorance, lacking in vision. How disgustingly uncivilized. And what is their excuse? Freedom?_

_Please._

Deciding he had kept his councillors in suspense long enough, the King finally spoke. "Who am I?" he asked smoothly.

The small Hylian voice of Vaati answered without hesitation, "King Ganondorf Dragmire, Supreme Ruler of the Gerudo Desert, and the Arbiter's City."

"Good. Now, where are we?"

Not wanting to let the foreigners impress the King more than her, a Gerudo general spoke up. "Arbiter's City, Your Majesty."

"Beyond that, General Aveil."

"The Gerudo Desert."

"And how have we survived for the past millennium?"

Aveil sat up straighter in her chair with her chin held high. "The wisdom and leadership of our Kings and the unfailing loyalty of their subjects, Your Majesty."

Ganondorf chuckled softly. _Their fanaticism is perfect. I will command them to jump and they will not even care to ask how high._

"Now... who lives to the west?" _Grab them by the neck._

Another general chimed in, "The faithless machine-worshippers, Your Majesty. _Hylians._" Her last word was laced with venom.

Ganondorf turned around slowly, his deep green eyes flashing hungrily. He fixed those gathered around the table with a glare that made even General Onox flinch. _And squeeze._

"And how many years have we lived in this choking waste of a desert, being denied access to their lands for fear of them becoming… _unclean_? Too long!" Ganondorf's voice nearly shook the room. "Hyrule mocks us, being so close we can almost _touch_ their precious green fields, their shimmering lakes, and when we reach out to them we are kicked around and spat on and sent back to our dust! I intend to march on Hyrule and their commonwealth, destroy their army, cast down their rulers, and rebuild in our image!"

Ganondorf ripped his blade free from the scabbard and raised it high above his head, sending a jolt of fear into the hearts of those gathered in the room. "I will use this foul blade to blot out Hyrule's light forever and I will not sheathe it until the Gerudo sit upon the ashes of the new world! The new order!

"Start preparing every asset we have, I want sky ships, infantry, and Loftwing cavalry assembled and mobilized within the fortnight!"

Ganondorf brought his blade down in a streak of white light and split the table down the middle, scattering his councillors as they ran in fear for their lives. He laughed with genuine amusement at their cockroach-like behaviour, watching their retreat with dark eyes.

"We're going to war!"


	2. Mourn, Move

**The Legend of Zelda: Gears of Fate**

_Maloni_

Chapter I: Mourn, Move

The horizon blushed with the promise of light.

Slow and steady, dawn crept over the horizon and sent lances of beautiful morning colour across the sky and over the Zora Sea's tossing waters. The impending sunup gently washed away the purple backdrop of night and previously shining stars gradually faded from view at the coming of the sun. As the sun climbed higher in its inevitable ascent, the light it cast shone further until it finally reached a precipice overlooking a mess of jagged rocks hiding in the frothing waters below. Upon this windblown cliff sat a bleak and abysmal-looking graveyard.

Purple moss blanketed patches of rock firmly embedded in the ground and carpeted nearly all of the graveyard's decaying ground. Ivy of a similar hue snaked up and hung from crumbling blocks of granite, allowing light to filter through in sparse patches of illumination or curtaining off some of the more overgrown areas from the sunrise entirely. Withered tangles of thorns spilled on to overgrown paths like brittle barbed wire. Black iron fences once used to section off areas of the graveyard from others were twisted, bent, broken, and rusted from years upon years of exposure to the elements. Now, they did little more than act as a hazard to visiting mourners.

Cracked and faded headstones as well as the odd crumbling crypt stood apart from the area the nearby townspeople had claimed from the labyrinthine graveyard for their own burials. It lay in a corner tucked away on the end farthest from the sea. The headstones there were well cared for, the plant life was mostly cleared, and stood protected by a handful of walls that looked to have held up better against the test of time. Carefully plotted graves sat in neat rows marked by tombstones fashioned from large rocks dug up from the beach. Names along with birthdays and dates of the person's death were carved on smooth, sanded stone faces.

At a glance, one might notice the cleaner looking marker, one not so worn by time and weather. Upon closer inspection one would find a small wildflower picked from the fringe of the nearby forest laying atop it. Then, the thin and muscular young man of eighteen years seated in front of it, head held in his hands as he peered at the gravestone through dark brown bangs with dulled, almond-shaped green eyes. Ears elongated and pointed lay flat against the sides of his head and they poked out from under his fraying forest green tuque. Loose plaits hung from the sides of his head to brush his shoulders and a ponytail draped itself around the side of his neck, gently rustling in the wind. He preferred his traditional Calatian hairstyle, despite it taking time to prepare in the morning. A deep and even tan from hours spent labouring in the sun topped off his features, creating a look that most would call attractive or at the very least handsome. Guarded against the cold wind that tore through Yoll Graveyard by a long-sleeved black shirt and a forest green vest, as well as sturdy canvas pants tucked into a weather-worn pair of knee-high black work boots, the boy sat numb to the weather.

He studied the writing etched into the headstone planted in front of him with a furrowed brow. After all this time, he found it difficult to wrap his head around the fact that his father was truly dead. He found it hard to believe he wouldn't come home with his shining smiles and laughing eyes, calloused hands and soft words, his bag of earnings and a portion of the day's catch. Sometimes a sweet or some other treasure for his son. He would kick off his boots and ruffle his boy's hair as he pecked his wife on the cheek and put the catch away in the cold storage powered by the spluttering generator out back. If Link tried hard enough, he could imagine the phantom feeling of his father's hand in his and even his warm embrace, though when he opened his eyes the illusion was shattered. He sighed and reached out to feel the cool surface of the grave marker, slowly running his hand over the words, tracing some letters with his fingers. That hand trembled as he sucked in a large breath to steady himself. He pulled his arm back and held his wrist against his chest, clenching his shaking hand into a fist. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes and they swam before his vision, but he didn't let them fall.

_Here Lies_

_Arn Strathcona Valkyr_

_Beloved Husband, Father, Friend_

Lacklustre and generic perhaps, but even after four years the words still brought him face-to-face with his cold reality. They carried weight to them and an incredible pain that haunted his dreams, twisted them into nightmares of his father shipwrecked at sea. From being swallowed by the storm's maw and drowned under the crashing waves to being brutally crushed in the wreckage, he'd seen it all in the terrible images sleep brought him. However, whatever pain he suffered within himself rarely rose to the surface. His face was more oft than not bearing a solemn expression that set his mouth in a firm line and clenched his jaw, dark eyes dauntingly sharp and further shadowed by hanging hair. Forced to mature before his time and to step up and fill his father's shoes, something in him had changed. Something that made him more of a troubled young man than the carefree boy he once was. It all made for a rather intimidating sight.

He often wondered how life would've been had his father come back from his voyage, wondered if he would've matured the way he had if it had come naturally with years, not experiences. He wondered how life would have been if his mother's health had not deteriorated to a dangerous point and confined her to her bed for weeks at a time. But wondering was useless, what was done was done and there was no changing it, no matter the strength of his longing for a better life; the thought was depressing but it helped him carry on.

Another sigh and he noticed the sun was higher than he expected it to be, a sign that he should head back to town and start preparing for the day. With his mother already informed that he was working the early shift, he could head straight for the piers and board his regular vessel. He winced slightly at the stiffness in his knees after sitting cross-legged for so long and worked it out, stretching his arms high above his head and cracking his fingers as well. With one last wistful look at his late father's resting place he turned on his heel and made for the front gate, stuffing his hands in his vest pockets and taking the well-trod path through the thorn bushes.

_You've got a job to do, Link._ He groaned inwardly._ To think the day has only just begun..._

Link's exit out of Yoll Graveyard was a boring step back from his usual departure. He would normally cut through the remnants of the valley forest, which amounted to little more than a sharp incline peppered with dead trees and boulders embedded deep into the hillside. Loose black earth and spits of gravel threatened to crumble and give way beneath even the lightest of steps; any stumble would seriously injure if not kill. It had taken Link a long time to master the descent, at first opting to follow the longer and safer path with steps built into more stable ground which circled around the route that he took to traversing. With the combination of his steady sea legs and his impressive sense of balance, he found an odd sense of enjoyment out of climbing, something to instill a sense of danger and adventure. Something to break away from his otherwise mundane life. He enjoyed a challenge, although he'd long since mastered the quickest way down and simply used the exertion as an exercise to warm up his muscles for the day's work.

But his heart was not in it that day. He felt as if there were a heavy weight on his shoulders, an off feeling that had crept up on him and just made its presence known, making his the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There was something tense in the air. Link shook it off and ignored it, pinning it on pollution from the city across the plains and his abysmal surroundings. Yoll Graveyard and the surrounding area were hardly places that inspired joyful thoughts.

There were many explanations as to why the land around Yoll Graveyard was as depressingly dead as it was. Theories ranged from outlandish to logical; malevolent and restless spirits of the past poisoning the land to the aftereffects of waste dumped long ago by the old abandoned factory over the nearby ridge. Thankfully, the blight stopped spreading years ago and only affected Yoll Graveyard and the surrounding area, which was a relatively small spit of land on the shore, a stain marring the otherwise marvelous landscape.

The stairs paved a much gentler and curving way down the hillside. Jagged rocks and gravel on his right climbed upwards and away, while on his left the ground sloped sharply downwards and created one side of the gloomy valley cut off from the light. His descent passed uneventfully as his mind wandered aimlessly, a solemn expression on his face. Link watched as the forest gradually shifted from gnarled, blackened trees and tangled thickets of thorns, to wilted bushes with muted greenery clinging to sagging branches and sparsely decorated trees, to the very image of picturesque forest scenery. All around were towering trees dressed in summer cloaks of green that swayed in the wind, their roots burrowed deep into rich brown earth, birds singing to each other and hopping from branch to branch excitedly. Link could not help the grin gracing his lips; Labrynna, specifically the area of South Shore, was a beautiful place in the summer, and even more so in the autumn when the trees shed their green finery and exchanged them for more modest coverings of russet and brown.

As much as he would like to spend the day in the forest, his place of escape, he had work to do. The winding dirt path he had been following for the last few minutes abruptly came to an end and stretched out before him, in all their emerald grandeur, were the rolling plains of Labrynna. Interspersed between himself and the horizon were densely grown copses and patches of weathered rock, grey specks splattered across the green canvas of the grass. Hills rose and fell, and far off in the distance, surrounded by the orderly Lynna City, stood the imposing edifice of the Black Tower. The tallest of its spires scraped the clouds and indistinct shapes lazed around as high as the peak to as low as the approximate halfway mark, some slowing to a stop beside it, others pulling away carefully and speeding off once at a safe distance. The tallest docking tower in the world, the historic site turned commercial transportation hub truly was a magnificent sight to look upon.

More interesting than the Tower were the shapes congregated around it. Sky ships, dozens of them, vessels to traverse their namesakes. It was a wondrous thing to watch them soar overhead, hear the roar of their engines, and to see the puffy white air trails left behind. Sometimes their hulls were painted with a company's colours: Labrynna Airlines seemed to favour blue, white, and yellow. Merchant ships were a kaleidoscope of colours ranging from powder blue to a seductive red and everything in between. Link remembered the moment he was staring at the night sky as a black ship with near silent engines passed overhead, silhouetted against the moon for a fleeting moment; his first and closest brush with the wondrous inventions. He later assumed it was a smuggler vessel, a small, quiet, and quick ship perfect for illegal activities like running drugs and arms, or whatever smugglers did with their cargo holds.

Link's thoughts of sky ships were torn from his mind and he was forced to return his focus to where he was walking, barely catching himself from taking a fall down the hill as his ankle turned on a loose stone. Stumbling to a halt and winning the fight for his balance, Link sighed as he caught his breath and tried to slow his racing heart, eyes racing back and forth to get his bearings. Blinking, he realised that he had almost gone too far west, his mind preoccupied as it was. Here, the path branched off southward, the varied sounds of the sea barely audible in the distance. Continuing on with newly found focus, Link took the turn.

Passing between two trees, Link disappeared down the winding dirt path and frowned uncomfortably as he felt that off feeling once more. Hairs on the back of his neck standing up, he tried to ignore the fact he felt the very same way the night he was told his father died at sea. He sighed an exasperated sigh and shook his head slightly, quickening his pace. _Just get to work, you'll forget about it._ He growled softly, added, _hopefully__._

It didn't take Link long to reach the edge of the forest. The path curved softly through the woods and transitioned from dirt to gravel and finally to loose white sands. Link shielded his eyes as he emerged from the forest greenery on to white sands sparkling with the sun's brilliant radiance from its early morning perch in the sky. Clear blue skies and gently tossing waters stretched out into the horizon, a handful of boats already out and heading for the Crescent Strait to take them eastward along the coast or further out to sea for a larger haul. Gulls wheeled lazily overhead and squawked their calls to each other, sometimes diving for the ground in groups to fight over some piece of trash, only to rise again and resume their drifting. And supported by countless stilts thrown together with bits of metal and timber, stood the town of South Shore, its slightly ramshackle looks certainly earning the title of a shanty-town, albeit much better built; the many resident shipwrights made sure of that.

The sight of the seemingly hovering town never ceased to bring a small smile to his face. Intricately interconnecting walkways and piers of dark timber weathered by the sea sprawled along the coast. Boats pulled away, slowed to a stop, or sat moored at their docks. The sound of the gulls and the gentle tide slapping against the smooth hulls of countless vessels, the rough voices of sailors and fishermen. Here and there the high-pitched squeals and laughs of children at play, weaving in and out of the crowd on the main street. These sounds were music to his ears. Not much brought him joy anymore, life was a blur of work and caring for his sickly mother, but this was one of the few rare things that he couldn't help but feel happy about. He grew up in this shanty-town, this cobbled together work of art, this hive of genuine, hard-working, happy people. He knew the ins and outs of the fishing business, the shortcuts between streets, and the people who walked them. And as Link stepped from the glittering white sands on to the creaking wood of one of the many ramps bridging the beach and the town, he allowed himself a real smile.

This was home.

* * *

**Author's Note**

_**Chapter published on August 3rd, 2015**_

_**Next chapter: Gathering Storm**_

**So first of all, many thanks to anyone who took the time to read this, and infinite thanks to anyone who decides to review, it really means a lot to me to know that my writing is reaching people. c:**

**Story Details: If you're clueless as to what Labrynna is, it's where Oracle of Ages takes place****.**** I've joined nearly all of the lands of the Zelda universe together, excluding Termina since I consider that separate realm or whatever. But keep in mind that not all of these places will be visited. Oh, and Link's surname in this story is pronounced vaal-keer, if you were wondering.**

**Update Schedule: Given the fact that this is being written chapter-by-chapter and that I am completely unreliable, I have no concrete update schedule. The best way to keep up-to-date with this story is to add it to your alerts and check out my profile for updates as well as my Tumblr blog. (Found through my profile.)  
**

**Rating: As I'm sure you've noticed, this story has an T rating. Be prepared for descriptive violence and action, mild language, and (possibly) vague descriptions of sexual content. This is by no means a smut story though.  
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**-Maloni**


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